Last Friday Night
by Crystallic Rain
Summary: A collection of ficlets revolving around what happens before, after, and during the Hudmel Friday night dinners. This week: Sometimes Kurt hurts, and Blaine feels like he's the only one to notice when he does.
1. Warm Milk

**last friday night**

**notes: **Hey guys, here's a new piece I'll be working on! Basically, it's a series of ficlets/drabbles about the Hudmel Friday night dinners - the goings on before, during, and after. Feel free to message me with prompts, as I'll be posting a new one each Friday. (:

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><p><strong>warm milk;<strong>

Kurt smiled against Blaine's lips as the boy pushed up the hem up his shirt, untucking it from his jeans. His fingertips ghosted along the bare skin of Kurt's side, and in turn the taller boy yanked at the bottom of the other boy's polo shirt, managing to get it up off over his head with only the slightest bit of awkwardness and fumbling.

Blaine pressed against Kurt, lifting up off the bed and gently pushing him back against the pillows instead. Kurt closed his eyes as the other boy moved his lips down the other's neck, slowly working at the buttons of the brunette's shirt.

"Hey Kurt, I was—_oh._"

Blaine fell back off of the boy, staring wide-eyed at the door. Kurt on the other hand groaned, propping himself up on his elbows and glaring at the intrusion.

"Finn," he said in a low voice.

The boy shifted awkwardly in the doorway. "Hey, I was just wondering if you'd help me make some warm milk—"

"_Finn_," Kurt repeated, his tone more dangerous now.

Finn nodded quickly. "Yeah, I can probably figure it out myself," he muttered. "But um, if, you know, whenever you're done... we're out of cookies, and—"

"Get out," Kurt told him slowly.

"We can talk about this later," Finn said, nodding, trying his best to look supportive, "during our lady chat—"

"_Finn, get out!_" Kurt growled, and his stepbrother was quickly out the door, closing it behind him.

Kurt groaned again, throwing himself back against the pillows and squeezing his eyes shut tightly, tossing his arms over his face. "I'm going to kill him," he murmured into his elbow.

After a few moments, he sat up once again, raising an eyebrow as he spotted Blaine fumbling with his shirt and mumbling to himself. "Your dad's going to kill me," he breathed out. "It's Friday night and in just a couple hours I have to be sitting at the same table as your father, eating dinner and pretending that your stepbrother didn't walk in on us making out—"

"_Blaine,_" Kurt sighed, quickly buttoning his oxford.

"—_without shirts!_" Blaine said, finally having his shirt back on and throwing his arms up in exasperation.

Kurt simply laughed. "Blaine, you're fine," he said with a gentle smile.

"You said your dad has _a shotgun_," Blaine groaned, and Kurt couldn't help but chuckle again.

"I also mentioned he has a flamethrower," Kurt pointed out, and Blaine made another unintelligible sound of discomfort. "You're _fine_," Kurt repeated, folding his arms. "You convinced my dad to give me a sex talk, and then asked me out just a couple weeks later. If he hasn't killed you so far, I think you'll be safe at least for a bit longer."

There was a loud crash from downstairs and Kurt flinched slightly. "I'm going to go help Finn before he destroys the entire kitchen," he sighed, sweeping in for a swift kiss on his boyfriend's cheek before making his way to the door. "Oh, and Blaine?" he said, pausing and turning back to the other boy. "You should fix your shirt. In your distress, you put it on backwards."


	2. Wildberry

**last friday night**

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><p><strong>wildberry;<strong>

Kurt glanced up, watching as Blaine quickly approached, his bag slung over his shoulder.

"Sorry about the wait," he sighed. "I had to talk to Miss Castle about an assignment she gave us, but honestly, it's steadily becoming clearer that she doesn't actually care about the curriculum..."

"McKinley isn't Dalton," Kurt responded with a wry smile, and Blaine hummed in response.

"Maybe not," Blaine conceded, and he leaned in, pressing a chaste kiss to Kurt's lips. "But you're here."

A blush crept on Kurt's cheeks, though it was only visible for a split second before the couple was drenched in icy blue slush. Blaine coughed and spluttered, but Kurt simply stood frozen, the chill seeping through his body.

"Get a room, homos," one of the hockey players grumbled.

"Nobody wants to see that," another said.

"_Fags_."

Kurt squeezed his eyes tightly for a moment, opening them again once the jocks had walked off and wordlessly taking Blaine's hand in his own, dragging him off into the empty boys' locker room. He set his bag on the floor, turning on the hot water in one of the taps and letting it run for a few moments before shoving a towel underneath and pressing it to his face.

"I'm so sorry," he breathed out, turning to Blaine hesitantly and then pressing the cloth to his cheek to remove the sticky blue substance.

Blaine caught his hand, and tilted his head slightly to look Kurt in his eyes. "Why are you sorry?" he asked. "This was my fault. Like you said, this isn't Dalton."

"And you could still be in Dalton right now, but—"

"But I wanted to be with you," Blaine told him, smiling, and Kurt sighed.

"You're right," he said. "I know you are. We've already talked about it."

Blaine grinned at him. "Well, I owe those jocks a thank you because doused in this color, your eyes have never looked more stunning," he whispered, and leaned in to press a gentle kiss to his lips. "And you taste like wildberry."

Kurt hummed in response. "Personally, I've always preferred cherry," he quipped.

Blaine chuckled. "I'll keep that in mind," he replied. "Promise you won't laugh once you see my hair in its natural state after we wash this out?"

"If it's really that terrible, we can fix it when we get to my house for dinner," Kurt told him. "But I think I can guarantee I'll love you either way."


	3. Mother

**last friday night**

****

* * *

><p><p>

**mother;**

Kurt swiped at his eyes, letting out a shaky breath as he leaned back against the kitchen counter. He wrapped his arms around his middle, hugging himself tightly and doing his best to simply steady his breathing.

He was being stupid. He told himself again and again that he was just being stupid. He should be fine—_happy_ even. He had gotten a part in the musical, and he had a boyfriend and loved and who loved him back. Life was perfect, wasn't it?

_No_, it wasn't.

Finn had told him just before Glee that he wasn't inviting Rachel to their Friday night dinner that week. he was thankful. That was good, right? Good, good, good.

He leaned his head back against the cupboards. He wondered how he had managed to lose his two best friends in the span of less than a week.

Maybe not _lost_, he reminded himself. There was still time, still room for apologies and forgiveness and change. But something, someone needed to change.

He was starting to hate the change.

Rachel had changed back, back to thinking of herself before others, back to competing _against_ Kurt instead of with him.

And Mercedes... Mercedes _needed_ to change back.

His chest ached, missing the girl that had been his best, possibly only, friend just two years ago, the girl who had had a crush on him, the girl he had come out to before anyone else. He wondered where it had gone wrong, where they had gone wrong.

He blamed himself. Partially, mostly, or fully, he didn't know. But he did know it had started when he met Blaine. But he had needed Blaine, someone like him, someone who understood. He had neglected her, though. She'd said she was fine but he should have known. He wondered if that was the beginning or end of everything going wrong.

It was after that they had stopped being so honest with each other. He didn't know why he waited so long to tell everyone about Blaine kissing him, about them dating. He didn't know why he had to find out about her and Sam from _Jacob Ben Israel_ and his stupid video at the beginning of the semester.

The thought then hit him—if he was certain Blaine was changing him for the better, maybe she thought the same thing of herself and Shane. Yet leaving her behind had never been part of his plan. Why was forgetting about him part of hers?

He took a shuddering breath before completely dissolving into tears. He tried to tell himself again that he was being stupid, but it didn't work.

"Oh _honey._" The voice came from the doorway, and before he knew it he was being enveloped in warm, gentle arms. "Shh, sweetheart, it's all right."

Kurt didn't argue, simply letting himself cry himself out into Carole's arms. She whispered reassurances to him, cooing to him that it would be all right, until at last he believed her.

"S-sorry," he mumbled at last, as he pulled away from her.

"You have nothing to be sorry for, Kurt," she told him gently, handing him a wad of tissues from her pocket. He took them from her graciously, dabbing at his eyes and nose. She fixed him with a more serious gaze. "If you want to talk about it, you come talk to me, all right sweetheart?"

Kurt nodded, pausing slightly. "Thanks, mom."

Carole's eyes widened a little, her mouth slightly open when she heard how Kurt addressed her. He swallowed awkwardly, wondering if it had been the wrong thing to do, if he'd said the wrong thing, but there was only a split-second of those thoughts before Carole quickly closed the gap between them again, pulling Kurt in for an impossibly tight hug and pressing a kiss to his forehead. Kurt breathed a slight sigh of relief and hugged her back.

"Any time," she told him softly.


	4. Different

**last friday night**

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><p><strong>different;<strong>

"Hey Kurt?"

Kurt didn't glance up from up the vegetables on the cutting board, continuing to chop them into equal sizes. "Yes, Finn?"

"How come Blaine always comes over here?" he asked. "Why don't you ever go over to his place?"

Kurt froze, staring down at the cutting board as though it insulted him. "I thought you _liked_Blaine," he said shortly.

"I do!" Finn quickly responded. "I just... I dunno, I go over to Rachel's a lot, and I used to always go over to Quinn's..."

"Well, Blaine and I have a different relationship than you and your girlfriends," Kurt snapped, glancing at his stepbrother, and Finn frowned.

"Sorry, dude," he said. "I just—"

"No," Kurt cut across him, setting down the knife and wiping his hands on a towel. "I know. I'm sorry." He paused, sighing heavily. "It's just... different."

"But... why?" Finn asked hesitantly.

"We're gay, Finn," Kurt said simply. "Even you weren't always so okay with that."

"Are his parents not okay with it?"

The question hung awkwardly in the air for several moments before at last Kurt turned to his stepbrother again. "It's not that they're not okay with it," he said hesitantly. "But they're not exactly as open and accepting as dad is, either." There was another pause. "He's still their son, though."

Finn nodded in understanding. "So where does that leave you?" he asked, and Kurt looked him curiously. "I mean... do they... you know... know about you?"

"Oh yes," Kurt said. "They know that Blaine and I are dating, and I met them once, though it was before we were boyfriends, and we were simply friends. I just... I don't think quite ready for the physical proof of actually _seeing_it."

Again, Finn nodded at Kurt's explanation. "Well," he said at last, "when they are ready to meet you, like, _really_meet you, they're going to love you."

"You think?" Kurt inquired with caution, and Finn looked at him incredulously.

"Of course, dude," he said. "You're awesome, and there's no way they won't see it." He patted Kurt's shoulder and gave him a sort of awkward half-hug before leaving the kitchen. Kurt glanced back down at the chopped vegetables, staring at them wondrously. He was amazed at just how things had become so different within the past two years, but he certainly couldn't say he was disappointed.


	5. Know

**last friday night**

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><p><strong>know;<strong>

Burt ran a hand over his head, sighing heavily.

To be completely honest, this just wasn't his thing. He didn't know _anything_ about cooking, though it somehow came second nature to Kurt. Even Carole had skills in the kitchen. But Burt? There was a reason Kurt helped him with weekend breakfasts, and Friday night dinners were left to either Kurt or his stepmother. Kurt was _supposed_ to be the one cooking; he'd purchased the ingredients the night before and marked the recipe in one of the healthy cookbooks he'd purchased after Burt's heart attack.

And then Burt had received the text: _Be home later. I need some alone time right now._

Burt had frowned at his screen and slowly tapped out his response: _Dinner stll 6. Blaine not coming 2nite aftr all?_

He was met with an immediate reply: _Don't want to talk about it._

He didn't know what that was about, but it was enough of an answer.

Of course, Finn was still at football practice and Carole was working right up until dinner time. And so Burt was left to try to make sense of a heart-smart recipe for eggplant parmigiana.

The doorbell rang and Burt dropped the cookbook onto the counter, tugging at his apron as he went to answer the door. Upon opening the door, he raised his eyebrows at the boy standing nervously on the porch.

"Kurt's not here," Burt told Blaine a little gruffly.

Blaine sighed. "I know," he said. "I didn't see his car, but... I just..." He trailed off nervously scratching slightly at the back of his head with one hand, and Burt noticed the flowers clutched tightly in his other hand.

He took a deep breath. "You can come in 'til he gets here," he told the boy. "But if he wants you out by dinner, that's up to him." Blaine nodded quickly as Burt stepped aside to let him in, and Blaine stood somewhat awkwardly in the living room. Burt took another breath. "Look, kid, Kurt was supposed to cook tonight, and I don't know my way around spices and all that like he does. I mean, I got the recipe and all but..." He sighed frustratedly. "Isn't this eggplant parmesan stuff just pasta? I can't make heads or tails of what I'm supposed to do."

Blaine smiled. "I can help if you want," he offered, and Burt nodded, walking into the kitchen. He opened a cabinet and set a vase on the counter, which Blaine thanked him for, quickly setting up his flower display while Burt waited. The moment he finished, Blaine picked up the cookbook and looked the recipe over quickly.

"If you start slicing the eggplant, I can start working on the eggs to coat, and the breading," Blaine offered, glancing up at Burt, who nodded, taking one of the squash and picking up the knife. "Just dip those in the egg and then the breading, and put them in the oven. I'll start on the pasta and the sauce."

Burt raised his eyebrows slightly. "You made sauce from scratch before?"

Blaine smiled crookedly. "Not quite," he admitted. "Do you have a jar of sauce though?" Burt nodded, and pointed his knife toward the pantry. "I know a few tricks so Kurt will never know the difference."

Some time later, they managed to get the casserole dish into the oven. Burt started on the clean-up as Blaine stood by a little awkwardly.

"I really do love him," he said suddenly to Burt, who raised his eyebrows slightly, looking from his dishes to the boy. He took in a deep breath, directing his attention back to the sink.

"I know," he said finally, and Blaine seemed to relax slightly. "And I know my son. I know he feels the same way about you."

Blaine nodded. "I'm not even sure what we're fighting about," he admitted. "I said something stupid, and then he—"

"He said something stupid back," Burt said. "I know that's how it goes. And trust me that I believe it's just as much his fault." He sighed. "The both of you are young. You still gotta learn to work through things better."

Blaine nodded again. "I want to, though," he said quickly. "I want to learn to work through things with Kurt."

The front door opened, and both Burt and Blaine turned to the doorway, waiting for the intruder to make themselves known. And sure enough, moments later, Kurt was walking hesitantly into the kitchen.

"Dad," he acknowledged slowly. "Blaine."

"Blaine was just helping me out with that dinner," Burt told his son, wiping his hands on his apron.

"I would have done it," Kurt told him indignantly, but Burt merely shrugged and a silence fell.

"Well, I'm gonna let you two talk," Burt said at last, and despite Kurt's grimace, he moved to leave the kitchen.

But he knew they needed to sort this, whatever 'this' may be, out. And he knew they would, and that they'd be happy again in about ten minutes, and that Blaine would stay for dinner.

Burt wasn't always the best judge of character, but he did know that Blaine was a good kid, and he knew that he liked him. And he knew that Kurt loved him and he made Kurt happy, so really that was all that mattered.


	6. IOU

**last friday night**

**note:** So I wanted to apologize for being late. On Friday, I went to see _Disney on Ice_ with my boyfriend and it was the most amazing thing in the world ever. (But if you follow my tumblr, you already know that. If you don't, I'm imatrisarahtops, so go follow me.) Anyway, here you go. Enjoy!

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><p><strong>i.o.u.;<strong>

Kurt pressed the button beside the door, hearing the bell ring. He waited several minutes before repeating the action, still without any avail. Sighting, he pulled his phone out and sent Blaine a quick text.

"_Answer the door, it's me._"

Moments later, a pajama-clad Blaine came to the door, his nose red, his hair un-gelled, his eyes framed with glasses. He grimaced slightly.

"Feel free to break up with me, now that you've seen me in my natural form," he said in a hoarse voice, and Kurt smiled gently at him.

"If I don't," he responded, "will you promise not to run screaming when you see me in mine?"

"Deal," Blaine laughed, though it turned into a cough, and Kurt frowned.

"In," he demanded, and Blaine obliged, moving into the hall, Kurt following and shutting the door behind him. He shrugged off his coat, switching the hand he was holding a grocery bag with as he did so. He quickly hung the jacket on the coatrack before turning to Blaine and smiling once again.

"Not that I don't love seeing you," Blaine said at last, tilting his head slightly, "but what are you doing here? It's Friday night."

Kurt nodded. "And for my family, I made some homemade soup," he said. "What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn't bring it to you when you're sick, your mom's at her sister's, and your dad's on business?"

Blaine smiled. "I guess a pretty bad one," he replied teasingly.

"Go into the living room," Kurt ordered him gently. "I'll be there in just a moment."

Blaine nodded, and Kurt watched as he shuffled into the other room. Shaking his head slightly, Kurt went into the kitchen, rifling through the cabinets and drawers to find a bowl and spoon. At last he did, and he opened the tupperware container from his bag and ladled as much of the soup as he could into the bowl.

Upon entering the living room, Kurt found his boyfriend wrapped from head to toe in a blanket cocoon, and he smiled to himself, making his way the the couch and setting the soup on the coffee table. Blaine smiled at him gratefully.

"I was thinking maybe we could watch a movie?" Kurt offered, and Blaine nodded, blowing on the still hot soup. Kurt quickly moved over to the glass cabinet with the DVDs, carefully making his selection. He put the DVD in before sitting beside Blaine on the couch.

A moment later, the sick boy smiled broadly. "_The Little Mermaid_," he commented appreciatively. "Probably my favourite. How did you know?"

"Will you still think I'm amazing if I admit that I didn't, and I only did it because you look like Prince Eric?" Kurt asked, and Blaine chuckled.

"More amazing, actually," he responded, and Kurt grinned. As the movie started, Blaine abandoned his half-eaten soup, pulling himself and his blankets closer to Kurt, snuggling into him. "What am I supposed to do though?" he asked, and Kurt looked at him questioningly. "I can't sing along to 'Kiss the Girl' and then kiss you silly." Kurt raised his eyebrows at him. "It's always been my secret plan for when we watched this movie."

Kurt laughed, kissing Blaine's curls, admiring their softness and making a mental note to suggest—or demand—that his boyfriend let them free more often. Smiling, he muttered to the boy, "I suppose I could always accept an I.O.U."


	7. Direction

**last friday night**

**Notes: **I'm not liking the Finn/Blaine business in the show right now, so I'm gonna try to fix it here.

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><p><strong>direction;<strong>

"Did I do something wrong?"

Kurt glanced up from his locker, frowning slightly at Blaine.

"What?" he asked. "Of course not, why do you think—"

"Because I think you noticed that Finn has been giving me a hard time in glee since I switched schools, the worst of which was yesterday, and now it's Friday and suddenly I'm not invited to your house for dinner," Blaine continued.

Kurt shifted slightly. "That's not the reason," he said quickly. "You have practice tonight—"

"For an hour," Blaine cut across. "Your family eats at six, and practice would be over by five." He licked his lips, looking less angry and more vulnerable. "You don't... I don't know... agree with Finn, do you?"

Kurt raised his eyebrows. "_Really_, Blaine?" he asked. "That's just ridiculous." Blaine opened his mouth again, but Kurt shook his head. "I love you. There is _no way_ that agree with Finn. He was a complete idiot for yelling at you like that, and I told him as much." He sighed frustratedly. "He's lost, and he's taking it out on you. You know that next year, once he's gone, you're going to be the group's unofficial leader, right? And don't look at me like that, you're going to just naturally fall into that part, as he did. But right now, glee's all he has. He has trouble deciding what he wants for lunch, let alone what he wants to do next year. I'm not defending his behavior at all, just... trying to give a little reason to it."

Blaine nodded a little solemnly. "No, I... I get what you're saying," he sighed.

Kurt placed a hand on his boyfriend's cheek, forcing his face up so that their eyes met. "You want to come over for dinner?" he asked softly with a smile.

Blaine grinned in response. "Nah, I'll be fine. Finn can have his family to himself for the night." He paused. "But... coffee?"

Kurt hummed in response. "How about a date?" he offered. "We can get coffee and see a movie at the mall."

"Sounds like a plan," Blaine responded, nodding. "Text me when you're done with dinner."

"I will," Kurt promised. "And Blaine? Try not to let Finn get to you. He's an idiot, but... he really does mean well."

Blaine nodded, understanding. He just hoped that Finn found a direction soon, for everyone's sake.


	8. Shotgun

**last friday night**

**notes: **Dedicated to Alicia, my best friend whose birthday was this week. This is based on a few conversations and jokes between us (mostly making fun of me). Love you, Alicia! Enjoy!

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><p><strong>shotgun;<strong>

"Shotgun!" The word was out of Finn's lips with almost startling speed.

Kurt raised an eyebrow as he unlocked his Navigator. "You don't think I'd like to sit next to my boyfriend on the drive home?" he asked. "And wouldn't you rather sit with your girlfriend in the back?"

"But I'm so _tall_," Finn groaned. "My legs were so cramped in the backseat on the way here. Can't I have the front?"

Kurt gave him a slightly annoyed look, but Blaine merely smiled. "It would be more fair that the shortest sit in the back," he offered, and Kurt merely sighed.

"Fine," he conceded as he slid into the driver's seat. "But Finn, you have to hold my coffee because the cup-holder up here is broken."

The taller boy nodded, taking the paper cup from his stepbrother and gripping it in both hands. As Kurt put his car in reverse, Finn lifted the coffee cup to his face. He wrinkled his nose at the smell and rested his hands on his lap again. "I don't understand how you can drink this stuff," he mumbled, and Kurt merely rolled his eyes as he pulled onto the road.

"Ohhh!" Rachel cried suddenly from the backseat. _"Ohh,_ Finn, I _love_this song! Turn it up!"

Kurt narrowed his eyes, focusing on the road as the boy beside him turned the volume of the radio up, Rachel and Blaine suddenly belting out the words behind him. He was suddenly reminded of the Glee club's trip to Carmel two years before, when he had acted as chauffeur. Only then, he had only liked a few of the club members. Then, they hadn't become a family yet.

"Finn, will you hand me my coffee?" Kurt asked distractedly, holding out his hand as he continued staring at the traffic-filled road ahead. He felt the cup in his hand and let out a disgusted noise, turning his attention to it instead. "Finn!" he half-shouted, feeling the liquid soaking through his fingerless gloves. "All you were doing was _holding_it. How did you manage to spill it?"

"I don't know!" Finn immediately responded defensively.

"Ugh, it's all over my car and my gloves," Kurt bemoaned.

"I'm sorry!" Finn responded quickly. "I don't know how it happened!"

Kurt shoved the cup back at him, quickly peeling off his wet gloves. "You didn't even get it on yourself," he said in disbelief. "You got it all over _me_ and, really, _everything,_except yourself."

Finn opened his mouth to defend himself once again, but instead they were met by responses from the backseat, Rachel sighing, "I know how that feels," at the same moment that Blaine said, "I've been there." Instead, the two boys up front were silent. Rachel turned her attention to her hair suddenly as Finn turned slightly, glancing between Blaine and Kurt with a shocked look, the former directing his attention quickly out the window and the latter's knuckles turning white as he clutched the steering wheel more tightly and swallowed somewhat awkwardly.

"We're never going to speak of this again," Kurt said at last.

Finn turned to him to object. "But—"

"Never again, Finn," Kurt said sternly. Everyone in the car was quiet once again before Kurt finally sighed, "Why does this always seem to happen before Friday night dinners?"


	9. Unnoticed

**last friday night**

* * *

><p><strong><strong>

**unnoticed;**

Blaine stared at the boy beside him. His eyes were directed down, unfocused, breathing soft and even as Blaine traced shapes on the thigh of his jeans.

"Kurt?" he asked gently. The brunette glanced up at him through his long lashes, a small, forced smile on his lips. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Kurt responded, too quickly in Blaine's opinion.

Blaine sighed, bringing his hand up to brush away a lock of Kurt's hair that had fallen loose from its styling by the end of the day. "Please tell me," he said. Kurt directed his eyes downward again. "Don't think I haven't noticed that something's been bothering you."

"Nobody else seems to."

_Ah_, Blaine thought_, there it is_. "Kurt..."

Kurt sighed, shifting closer to Blaine, pressing his forehead into the other boy's shoulder. Reflexively, he wrapped his arms around the brunette, holding him to him. "I'm just tired of things," he muttered.

"Like?" Blaine prompted.

Kurt turned his head slightly, resting his cheek against Blaine's chest instead. "Do you think any of them ever think about what I went through last year and wish they had acted differently?" he asked in a hushed voice.

"Every day," Blaine said simply. "But they're the ones who should think on that, not you."

Kurt closed his eyes. "But I wish they had."

"You think I don't wish the same thing?" Blaine asked him. "It kills me that you had to come to Dalton because you were scared for your life, and your friends only stepped in a handful of times to help." He paused, pressing a kiss to Kurt's forehead. "But at the same time, I'm so thankful you came to Dalton."

"Why?"

Blaine smiled. "I know you don't believe in God, but you can't deny that everything happens for a reason," he said. "Maybe we wouldn't be here, like we are now, if they stepped in and rescued you. Maybe we never would have even met. So yeah, your friends weren't great, but..."

"But I got you," Kurt responded, and Blaine could hear the slight smile in his words.

"Besides," Blaine continued, "why do you think they're trying so hard with Santana now? They don't want to lose her the same way they lost you."

Kurt nodded, then paused. "I wish... I wish she wanted _my_ help." He sighed. "Maybe that's why it bothers me so much. I know exactly what it's like, but instead she snaps at us. And—"

"And everyone else, when they never helped you, are the ones she's most willing to take help from," Blaine sighed. "I know."

"I can't even be mad at her," Kurt went on. "I mean, I forgave Karofsky, and the things he did to me were so much worse. I know she's just angry, I know how hard it must be for her, I just... I want to be there for her like no one was for me."

"Then be there for her," Blaine told him, simply. "Whether she wants it or not."

Kurt nodded against the other boy's chest. "I know," he said. He tilted his head back, looking up at Blaine with a smile. "I love you."

"I love you," Blaine responded, leaning in and kissing him on the nose. Kurt smiled, shaking his head slightly at the other boy's goofiness and blushing. "Now, no more bad thoughts. Santana will be fine. Your dad is going to be great in D.C. You're going to get into NYADA, and then I'll be right behind you in a year. So no more worrying. Remember that you told me it'll give me wrinkles earlier? I don't think you're exempt from that."

"You're right," Kurt sighed. "Maybe we should just do our skin regimen now... We could always do it again right before bed...?" He looked at Blaine hopefully.

He smiled, pressing a chaste kiss to the other boy's lips. "Sounds perfect to me."


End file.
